Mark of the Beast
by KLMeri
Summary: The Enterprise falls into yet another ill-timed scheme. A terrible choice must be made—and honored.  K/S/M pairing. AOS or TOS, as the reader pleases!  - COMPLETE
1. Prologue

**Title**: Mark of the Beast

**Fandom**: Star Trek AOS (or TOS)

**Author**: klmeri

**Pairing**: Kirk/Spock/McCoy

**Disclaimer**: I own the writing, the crazy idea, but not the characters. Just playing with 'em… rather roughly.

**Summary**: The Enterprise falls into yet another ill-timed scheme. A terrible choice must be made—and honored.

* * *

**Prologue**

The liquid is pungently sweet, almost tasty, as he sips from a small bottle, cap in hand. Funny that such a thing can be so deceptively good when its purpose is to kill. Jim resolutely downs the rest of its contents and leans his head against the cold base of the statue.

He wonders if Bones and Spock have unraveled his lie yet. Half of him secretly hopes that they have, that they are searching (and want and need him back); the other half—the responsible one, _Captain_, who convinced him to act, finally—says, quite ruthlessly, that Jim Kirk is a fool to want to be saved when he knows that it will only result in _loss_.

He does not pray; he is not the type of man to ask pardon for a thousand wrongs in the last moments, not before (when his belly was bloated and his skin pulled tightly over his bones) and not today. Rather, Jim thinks of that which is precious—of those two wonderful pieces of his heart—and feels grateful, if a little sad.

The silent stone beast looms over his head. The man's eyes are heavy now, tricking him. He thinks idly for a second that those harshly sculpted forelegs elongate, perhaps the taloned feet twitch, then stretch open once (twice).

His mind slows. He is detached.

The empty bottle slips from his fingers but his ears barely pick up the sound of its rattling _clink-clink_ on the ground. All's dark, growing shadowed and strangely alive. They (those deepening shadows) speak in low whispers, like tickling breath on his throat. They say _welcome, Jim_.

Should he reply? Jim manages a simple thought, one word: _Go? _

The response is a low (assenting) hum. So he does.

Some time later (an hour perhaps), McCoy and Spock, together with dying cries of "Jim!", find his body still—beginning to chill—in the courtyard of the Basilisk. Kirk's eyes are open, dilated to twin pools of black.

* * *

_It begins, per usual, at the behest of a Federation ambassador._ The man—he's not truly a man in any sense of the word, but the assumption is made regardless of species—represents a humbly sized planet with a large ego and wealth of enemies. His people are not gentle but neither are they warlike. Simply, as a race of inherently unsatisfied individuals, they hunger for power. Their rivals—any neighboring life in the quadrant—must envy their natural ability to create illusion (and deception); so the ambassador claims. The planet of the Basilisk requires a strong presence of authority—and an intermediary of good faith.

"Send us your best man," his translator beeps steadily. "Send us the best—and we promise to negotiate fairly with the Federation—and those who would wage galactic war upon my people."

The _Enterprise_ orbits the small silver planet not many stardates after this challenge. The Captain places the first, steady foot on its glittering soil in the name of Starfleet and Federation trust. At his side is a petite female, the diplomat by request. She stands as straight-backed and quiet as the Vulcan First Officer. There is a swarm of red-shirt Security which march, always tense, with them to the Palace of the Basilisk.

It won't be until three days later, after the first faint pulls of a downward spiral, that Doctor McCoy is called to another's bedside.

At this particular moment, as the party moves forward in confidence, there is a ruler overlooking his domain. He observes the gold, red, and blue as it approaches—and thinks with satisfaction that his gods send this gift of ignorance and soft will. He releases the dark covering over the window and returns to the inner sanctum of his workroom. The hollow sphere (of Seoul, a gift from many generations ago) is cloudy with a reserve of energy. He lays his right hand upon its cool surface, thinks of his goal, and sets a plan in motion.


	2. When Horror is Inevitable

**Alright, since no one reviewed the Prologue, I suppose ya'll were not intrigued in the least. I had to write this next part however, so here you go. Hope this makes you wonder a bit! And yes, this part is written in alternating pieces because it warranted such—the entire story won't be though.**

* * *

**When Horror is Inevitable**

Spock's first observation is that the Society of the Basilisk can be broken down into two categories of people: those who practice the Art of Illusion and those who do not. To say that one class is subservient to the other is, of course, correct—for those who do not have the ability to create "magic" (as Doctor McCoy termed it during the mission briefing) wear menial garb and serve the Basilisk and his Lessers.

As far as Spock can delineate in the next two days, the lower class is not paid for work, nor demand payment for services provided. In fact, when Kirk compliments one of the Basilisk's Lessers on a strange beast (gargoyle, Jim remarks) sculpture in the Palace courtyard and ponders at its worth, the response given is that a Human would know little of the exchange system on this world. It is a blatant affront to their delegation party, to which Miss Yuise—Karla Yuise, Federation-appointed liaison—smiles at the ill-tempered guide and sends the Captain a look from under her dark lashes. (Jim stays hard-eyed but silent as Yuise smoothly turns the conversation.)

The Vulcan concludes that monetary exchanges do not occur frequently here; that these people (of the Basilisk) have an intangible system with which to supply their needs and wants. He remains uneasy in the face of this knowledge, as Spock takes note of the condition of the servants, because how those unfortunate enough to be born without Talent acquire the basic necessities for themselves, he is unsure. When asked of such matters, the Lessers will not answer. It is one such Lesser named Garick (like all others, close-mouthed) with an abrupt spark of fear in his eyes who disturbs Spock's Vulcan calm.

The Basilisk and the Lessers are wealthy, no doubt. The Palace is sparsely but richly decorated and well-kept; its architecture is magnificent. The generosity of their host seems endless, as all grounded Enterprise personnel are shown to large, open rooms and given any number of nourishments and pleasures in which to indulge. Nevertheless, Spock cannot determine why the pieces displayed do not fit precisely as they should. On a much more basic level, he senses an unsettling cold in the high stone walls. Even in meditation, his mind is ill-at-ease.

Perhaps once sufficient evidence is gathered, Spock will go to the Captain with his observations (and doubts). Then they might unravel this mystery that presents itself in the nooks and crannies of an alien place.

That was before the second night's demonstration.

* * *

"_JIM!" _

_After the third pass over the Captain's body with the tricorder, McCoy pitches it with a savage heave of his arm at the statue's horrific (pleased) face. Spock is right beside him, touching shoulders with Leonard, holding Kirk's cold hand, but there is little consolation that either can offer._

* * *

The Basilisk—of an indeterminate age (uncanny to Humans)—raises his gold cup to his audience. He does not speak. The Lesser on his left does so for him. She says, "A toast—is this the correct term, Captain? We try to please. A toast to the Basilisk's good fortune in his dealings with your Federation."

Yuise automatically returns the Basilisk's salute but the majority of the Enterprise delegation party follows with mild reluctance. When Kirk confirms Yuise's action, lifts his cup high and announces, "To the success of our negotiations," the atmosphere clears somewhat and more than a few present spend their held breaths.

The Basilisk smiles and the moment passes.

All dinner guests (a good twenty or so) eat in silence for several minutes, the table piled high with a variety of well-known, intergalactic delicacies. Finally, the ring-less right hand of the Basilisk lifts in a small gesture and a Lesser, two seats from Spock's right, speaks.

"At the conclusion of this evening's meal, we have prepared an entertainment for you. You will glimpse our power." He directs this to the Federation diplomat.

"The Federation understands what a rare gift you make us, by sharing your unique ability. Thank you." Yuise watches with calm eyes as she replies towards the ruler at the head of the table. The Basilisk must be amused with her response because the corners of his mouth lift. (His eyes are unreadable, black.)

* * *

The guests, Lesser and Enterprise alike, spread out into a half-circle. One wary security officer eyes his chair and finally, at the gesture of his Captain, sits down. It's a sight, indeed, for the backs of the chairs curve up and separate into arms with three-fingered, long-nailed hands that come rest, spread open, at an uncomfortably close distance above a man's head.

The Basilisk is seated at the top of a dais, on a black-veined marble throne. He sits as if he has never left this place; as the dinner party gathered in the Center Court, if the Basilisk walked with the crowd, no one will remember seeing him do so.

Garick calls out, "Let it commence."

* * *

_Spock carries his Captain's body into the Palace._

_McCoy grabs the first person—a young man who almost scurries around the corner—with a shout (and tears on his face). The Lesser immediately cowers and grabs his head. Then he stops shuddering quite suddenly, straightens and speaks. "Come to me."_

_Spock is already far ahead down the hall, leading the way to the Center Court._

* * *

The entertainment starts with a hunched old man who ambles into middle of the room and grins at his audience. From his right hand, he releases a swirl of white energy. It flows down to the floor, grows and spreads like a fine mist. The mist changes to dark grey and a figure blossoms as a flower opens to morning light.

A partially naked Karla Yuise opens her eyes and stares directly at the First Officer. ("Fascinating.") The real woman, seated between the Captain and the Vulcan, clenches bloodless hands in her lap. She offers a wobbly smile to the Basilisk with "I am honored, Your Excellency."

The illusion walks over to the group of wide-eyed onlookers and reaches out to touch Spock's face. The Vulcan does not flinch away but a hand—Jim's—takes hold of the wrist (it's surprisingly substantial—Spock files this detail away).

Kirk says, "Don't." The not-Yuise stares at the Captain of the Enterprise before laughing softly. Jim slowly releases his grip and leans back into his chair, apologizing with "Sorry, Karla."

"It's alright, Captain," Yuise mumbles back as she straightens her skirt and sneaks quick glances at the illusion of herself.

"Silence!" The sharp order rings off the Palace walls. The Lesser seated at the foot of the dais closes her mouth with a snap. Another one, across the room, says, "You must be silent, for the entertainment."

Then the illusion of the petite diplomat opens her right hand and releases red energy. It forms into an amber handle of a snake's head and the long curved blade of a dagger. Not-Yuise beckons Kirk from his chair.

* * *

_The shadows of the Center Court are deep; they move. McCoy's body, standing beside the kneeling Vulcan (and a limp Jim), trembles with emotion. He chokes, "You…" then cries, "You murdering bastard!"_

_The throne, set aloft in the air, has no connection to the earth except for a long stream of anchoring blackness that twines about the base, up the armrests and hides the Basilisk._

_Leonard launches forward, crying out his accusation again, only to be encased in a pair of strong arms. (If his name is called softly, he cannot hear it over the rushing in his ears.) "Spock, please," the doctor's voice is half-fury, half-horror, "he's killed Jimmy."_

* * *

"Captain," Spock says quietly. "I advise you to stay in your seat."

"Didn't plan on leaving it, Mr. Spock." Jim's silent words _don't worry_ are apparent to the Vulcan after years of a close relationship. (Not to mention that Leonard helps translate Jim-speak on occasion.)

The carved arms of Kirk's chair move without warning; they launch Jim out of his seat, and the Captain lands roughly on his knees at the feet of the illusion. Spock's attempt to go to Jim's side is stalled by hard (living?) hands which grip his shoulders and hold him in place. Echoing cries from their half-circle signify that he is not alone in this predicament. The security ensign to his right curses and struggles futilely.

Jim, coming to his feet, demands the release of his people. A Lesser answers, "The Captain volunteers. Please remain seated." He repeats, "The Captain volunteers."

"I don't volunteer!" Jim whirls to the Basilisk and snarls. "Enough of the show. You violate the mutual lawful conduct of a Federation delegation. Let us go."

The Basilisk stares into Kirk. At last, he raises his left hand, gold and metal glittering off his fingers, to the illusion. It reappears at the foot of the dais and speaks, "Do not be frightened, Captain. We only desire to amuse you."

Spock shadows his Captain's back as soon as he is released. Security comes to their feet behind the two officers, reaching for phasers that are not present.

Kirk, never looking away from the Basilisk, orders, "At ease." Though all comply, the tension in the room remains. It is Karla Yuise, stepping up beside Captain Kirk, who tries to mitigate the hostility.

She says to Kirk, "Captain, we must forgive this misunderstanding on the Basilisk's part." To the Basilisk, "Did you intend harm to Captain Kirk?" The answer is negative. "Then please, Captain, can we not act in haste? Perhaps a night's rest may calm our nerves."

Jim's shoulders are softening. Spock does not argue with the Captain's agreement to this idea, but he silently acknowledges the possible outcomes of the past event. Meeting the black eyes of the Basilisk, the Vulcan attempts to classify his disquiet with this fortress and silent ruler. (There will be no reconciliation.)

All members separate to their quarters, guided by Palace servants. Spock refuses to abandon his Captain, even when Miss Yuise looks from Jim to the Vulcan in silent questioning.

The night seems long until it is broken by an overcast dawn and a pale diplomat who, as Spock answers the scratching at the door, crumples to reveal a snake-handled dagger in her back.

* * *

_Spock's arms are rigid and his face is terribly blank. As McCoy begins to break piece by piece against him, the Vulcan assesses the Basilisk with deadly calm. He commands Leonard, "Stay with the Captain," and releases his Human._

_He places one foot on the dais; the blackness balks. He ascends two steps; the bottom half of the throne becomes visible, glows silver. Before Spock reaches the top (still far below the Basilisk), the upper torso is revealed, two curled, still hands on the armrests, one—the right—always ring-less. _

_The Vulcan pauses, feels inexplicably nauseous. As the final step is breached, the shadows flee the face of the Basilisk. Behind him, McCoy gasps. _

_A golden-haired, black-eyed Jim is smiling at them._


	3. A Disappearing Act of Little Regard

**K/S/M bookmarks site now posted for public use. Go to my LJ for details.**

* * *

**A Disappearing Act of Little Regard**

Karla Yuise does not die. She lays sweating face-down on a low chaise and clutches an ensign's hand between whimpers. The blade of the dagger burrows partially beneath her left shoulder blade. Though the sight is unnerving, it is not overly bloody—at least, not yet. Kirk understands that the dagger cannot be removed without medical attention, and he also knows (now) that the Enterprise has no report on their status.

All communicators have disappeared. _Gone._

Jim feels intensely, at this moment, a certain helplessness. He has sent Spock and Security to find the Basilisk or any palace official (Hell, even an attendant would do) but all is eerily quiet throughout the white halls. Kirk would much rather be scouting for the enemy, but Yuise makes another surpressed noise, a small "Captain," and Jim lets that wish go.

"It's okay," he says, kneeling next to the wide-eyed ensign. The Captain places a hand on Yuise's damp hair. "You'll be alright, just hold on a little while longer." Her face is a grimace but Kirk sees that she is trying to be brave against the panic and pain.

God, he hates this lying. They are stranded on a planet of traitors—isolated from any weapons but the crudeness of their own hands. He wants Bones. Despite the danger of the situation as it stands, despite the inability of Kirk to protect his people, he thinks of Leonard and the doctor's steady words.

Bones can patch together a miracle out of a small medikit and a bottle of brandy. That's what they all need: Yuise to have a surgeon (before she's critical); and Jim, assurance from his other.

He hears a scraping in the other room that leads out into the hall. The Captain gestures his ensign to stay with the diplomat and retreats.

"Spock—"

It's not Spock, back from the search.

"_You!_" Jim snaps forward and veers straight at Garick. He has the other in a tight grip in an instant, demands, "Where's your _saint _of a ruler? Where are our communicators? _Do you realize what you've done!_" The man takes all the shaking and snarling from the Captain without protest.

Jim is full of anger at the despicability of any leader who dares to harm one of Kirk's own. When Jim thinks that he cannot stand this creature's silence a moment longer, Garick drops his head forward and lets out a high-pitched keen. It startles Jim enough that he loosens his bruising grip just for a second.

Garick, the Lesser, sags and Jim is forced to either hold him up or let the man drop to the floor. He goes with the latter. Staring down at the heap of a pitiable soul, Kirk is confused. He leans over and orders, somewhat less harshly, "Stop it. Tell me how I can contact my ship and get Miss Yuise to my medical staff."

The keening cuts off like water from a faucet. Garick's whole body gives one great shudder. Then the Lesser looks up at Captain Kirk, tilts his head, and smiles. "James Tiberius," he speaks slowly. "A leader among leaders. I may deal with a Human such as you."

Of course, it's the Basilisk. A bastard of a puppet master. Kirk has no tolerance left. "I want my communicator. NOW."

"The Federation are fools to place faith in little trinkets. Do you understand what real power is, James Tiberius?"

"It's Kirk," he snaps. "And I don't give a flying fuck what you want or think. Give—me—my—communicator."

Garick leans back on his haunches. "The Federation liaison shall not be removed—" Before Kirk can draw his fist back, the Lesser continues, "—but I will allow the transport of one of your ship's personnel to aid the woman. Choose wisely."

A communicator appears in Garick's hand. Jim doesn't even think; he launches himself at Garick.

And slams into the floor.

Jim stares at the hem of a robe as Garick speaks again. "Foolish. What is your choice, Captain?"

His hands press into the stone floor as he grits his teeth. Finally, Kirk swallows the painful emotion in his throat and tells the Basilisk to ask for the Chief Medical Officer. He watches, feeling a hard knot growing in his stomach, as Garick flips open the communicator and says in Jim's voice, "Scotty? Yes, everything's fine. Miss Yuise thinks she sprained her ankle. I want you to send Bones down here." There is a pause; Jim closes his eyes. "Well, remind him he's _my _CMO and I'm the Captain. Good. Kirk, out."

When the Lesser starts to smile again, Jim warns him, "You won't win."

The Basilisk replies, "Oh but I am fond of games."

* * *

Leonard's first words, upon seeing his patient, are "_Holy shit, Jim!_ Don't you know the difference between a sprained ankle and a _stab wound_?" Then the doctor has no more room for exclamation as he rips open his (now pathetically equipped) medikit and runs his tricorder over Yuise's quivering body.

Spock pulls the Captain aside and, in his Vulcan way, demands answers. Jim just says, "The Basilisk has control, Spock."

The First Officer observes the righteous anger (and veiled apprehension) in Jim's eyes before responding. He tells Jim that Security was unable to locate the Basilisk on the premise; however, there is a part of the Palace that remains inaccessible to them. "My tricorder picks up high energy readings due north of the Garden Maze, Captain. Upon inspection, there is a long wall which cordons off the developed gardens from the outer lands of the estate."

"I remember, Spock. Long stretches of nothing."

"Precisely, Captain, which leads to me to conclude that it is _not_ nothing."

"Explain." Jim's attention on the Vulcan is intense. Spock wonders, not for the first time, what it is that the Captain finds important besides the First Officer's scientific conclusions.

"Jim, the people of this planet are renowned for their talent at creating illusion. The Basilisk, in particular, harnesses a majority of energy from the magnetic fields that my tricorder picks up in this area. I have collected data for our return to the Enterprise…"

"…But we don't seem to be going anywhere, until he lets us. You think that he's hiding behind an illusion?"

"I suggest, Captain, that we cannot believe all which we experience in the presence of the Basilisk."

Jim lets out an agitated breath. "I'm sure that you're right, Spock. I don't trust him." Jim looks over at Doctor McCoy and adds, "It just makes it worse that we cannot trust ourselves either."

"Agreed."

Bones places a roll of gauze in the ensign's hands. Jim hears him tell the young security officer, "I'm gonna need you to make sure that Karla keeps holding still." There is a low mumbling of words. Leonard laughs, a little drily. "Sorry, but you've been field-promoted to nurse now, Lieutenant."

Jim and Spock come to stand beside Leonard as he straightens from his crouch. "Prognosis, Bones?"

"Not good, Jim, unless I can get her to the ship. Blade has chipped through part of the shoulder and torn at the tendons. She needs more than my haphazard stitching can do. Luckily, I've got some hypos to prevent infection." McCoy takes a moment to stare into the grim faces of his lovers. Then he slowly asks, "What's going on?"

Jim answers "Serious trouble" as Spock says "Endangerment of our persons, Doctor."

Bones just mutters "Damn."

* * *

_Leonard practically hurtles up the dais, and Spock only catches the doctor at the last second before he throws himself at the edge of the throne. Len wrenches around in Spock's arms and spits in the direction of the Basilisk. "Hell NO! He's NOT JIM! You sick bastard, YOU AREN'T JIM!"_

"_Leonard!" Spock snaps in such a way that makes the Human go still, though his muscles vibrate with restraint under Spock's long fingers. _

Spock, I won't—I just can't—stand—to see him like that. It's Jim's face and he's wearing it like a party mask—like it God-damned belongs to him!

Leonard, you will not attack. To do so is illogical, in knowledge of his capability.

_That briefly turns the doctor's rage on Spock. "And what the Hell were you gonna do, Spock, huh? Ask him nicely to turn himself in on two accounts of murder?" Spock has no answer that will satisfy Leonard. _Damn you, you fool Vulcan! Jim's DEAD. What do you want to do, get yourself killed too?

No, Leonard. I do not.

Good because I won't let you die. I won't—

_The rage and mental anguish that burns off of Leonard almost encompasses Spock too, fuels the volatile churning inside. _

Calm, t'hy'la. We will fight together. _He touches their foreheads briefly. _We will avenge. Together.

_This conversation happens in the span of few seconds, aided by the strength of their long-established bond. Spock and Leonard break eye-contact to turn their heads up to the solitary, drifting throne. To the not-Jim Basilisk that smiles so cruelly with triumph. _

_The Basilisk breaks his silence with the pleased tone of young and cocky James T. Kirk. "This sacrifice is acceptable to me. You may return to your ship."_

"_Like Hell we will!"_

"_Then you both are welcome to remain here." The hands of the Basilisk release from their position and are proffered, palm up, to both Leonard and Spock. "Stay. It shall be as you know it, lovers of Jim Kirk."_

_Spock senses an equally vile rejection in Leonard. He tells the Basilisk, simply, "I challenge you, by the rights of my people, for the death of my mate."_

_Not-Jim's eyes glitter. "But I did not kill your lover, Spock! He gave his life to me of free will."_

"_You liar! Jim wouldn't—"_

_The smile is back. "Wouldn't he? Would he not, this man you know so well, die for the sake of others?"_

_There is dawning horror spreading throughout Leonard; his body shakes with it. "—Jim—"_

"_So he would," the Basilisk confirms. "And he did." To Spock, "You have no claim on my life, Vulcan." The throne and man shimmer as the blackness begins to encroach again. "Now, go." And they disappear entirely, leaving behind Spock and McCoy at the top of an empty dais, below the body of their lover laid out in the repose of quiet death._


	4. The Reality of One's Making

**So it occurred to me, with what I have planned for this fic, ya'll not only need this second update today, but you need time to absorb the implications of what's happening. So enjoy. And ponder.**

**

* * *

**

Reality of One's Making

_Spock guides Leonard down the dais, helps him to the floor. They settle on their knees, one on either side of the prone body. Leonard's troubled, pained eyes search Spock's. Finally, he speaks. "What are we going to do?"_

_The Vulcan stays silent for a moment. When he replies, it is without much inflection in his voice. "I do not know."_

_McCoy hunches his shoulders and digs his hand into the Captain's shirt. "Jim," he pleas. "Jim, come back. Please. Why can't you come back? Why can't you—"_

_Why can't you—Jim—_

Jim.

JIM.

"Jim!"

His name, accompanied by a sharp sting, causes Jim Kirk's eyes to snap open. When his vision goes from blurry to focused—there is a terrible pounding in his head—he sees Leonard McCoy leaning over him. "Bones?"

"For Christ's sake, Jim, are you okay?"

He manages a disoriented _huh?_ Jim barely makes out a tricorder from the corner of his eye as it sweeps down the side of his face, beeping softly.

"Jim!"

Jim turns his back to the doctor. He's not sure what to say. Apparently, Bones does not have that problem.

"How do you feel? Dizzy?"

"Headache," he mumbles.

"Right. What else?" Leonard faces away from a minute to say, "Spock, they have water in here? Jim needs something."

_Spock_, Kirk thinks. _Spock and Bones. Here? What's going on? What's—_

_Shit. He's dead._

"No, you aren't. Trust me, I would know, I'm a doctor, Jim."

"Bones, I—wait. Where are we?" Suddenly, it's very important that he sit up. Leonard does not fuss at him, merely wraps an arm around his back to help Kirk move upright. His head hurts less once he's vertical (at least, partially vertical). Jim asks, "Where's Karla?"

Bones has that worried look in his eyes that he gets when he isn't sure about how effective a treatment will be on a patient. The doctor does not answer immediately, which only spurs Jim to keep asking, "Where's Yuise? Is she okay? Did you get her to the ship, Bones?"

"Jim—"

Spock arrives with the glass of water, so McCoy does not complete what he wants to say. Kirk looks to the Vulcan for an explanation. He forgoes intimacy. "Mr. Spock," the Captain says, "our current location."

"The Enterprise, Captain. Deck 43—"

Jim barely hears the rest. He sees the sterile gleaming silver of starship metal, looks at the insignia over the door of the Briefing Room. _No_. His hands tremble. _This makes no sense. How can I be here?_

"Jim," Bones has his attention again. "You hit your head."

"My head?"

"Yes, you clumsy fool! Your big head which—Thank God—is as hard as a rock."

"But I—Bones! We were on the planet and the Basilisk…"

"The Basilisk, Captain?" Spock interrupts. He pulls a PADD from off of a chair. Jim is on the floor, propped up by Doctor McCoy, and much too close to the long conference table for comfort. (How did he hit his head?) "We are enroute to Starbase 9 to acquire the Federation-appointed—"

"Karla Yuise, yes. She was on the planet with us!"

"Captain, we do not have orders pertaining to a… Karla Yuise. The Andorian secretary to the ambassador has offered—"

"NO!" Jim struggles to get up, but suddenly both his CMO and First Officer are not helping him; they are holding him down. He commands them to release him.

"Damn it, Jim! You've got a concussion. Just sit tight until Chapel and the gurney gets here!"

Kirk reaches for Bones' shirt, fisting his hand into it. "Listen to me. It's the Basilisk. He's screwing with us, Bones. He's making us see things… think things… that aren't real!"

Leonard grabs his fist, pulls it off of his shirt and twines his fingers through Jim's. "Easy, Jimmy. You're hallucinating from the concussion."

"I'm not." He looks at Spock and repeats his denial. "It was too vivid. I don't know why, but I died—I decided to die. And then I was you, Spock; I was _you_, going after the Basilisk." He says to Bones, "And I was you too. I felt your pain, Bones. I felt—"

He stops. Looks at Bones' hand holding his. "Where's your ring?"

"What?"

"Your Mama's ring. You always—" He jerks, then, tries to pull his hand away from Leonard's.

"Jim!"

"Bones…"

"You think we're not real, Jim?" Leonard holds up their joined hands. "Not even this, me touching you?"

Jim swallows. "Maybe."

McCoy looks to Spock. The Vulcan slowly reaches out to touch the side of Jim's face. "Will you allow me?"

"Yes, Spock. Of course." _Please_, he doesn't say. _Please be Spock._

Spock arranges his fingers at the meld-points along the Captain's cheekbones. "My mind to your mind."

_My thoughts to your— _

The ritual words are crushed in a rush of black; both Bones and Spock crumble away and reform into a familiar, terrible face.

Jim's eyes are blown wide. He cannot seem to speak or cry out.

_James Tiberius_, the Basilisk whispers; he leans in solicitously, smiling with Bones' soft look beneath sharp Vulcan eyebrows.

_What is real?_

_Are you real? Are you… an illusion?_

Jim doesn't know, but he is very much afraid of the answer. He wakes up, then, slumped over in a chair with his head resting on Karla Yuise's bedside. A shadow stirs to his right. Jim tries to suppress his body's automatic jerk.

Bones says, "Sorry for waking ya, Jim-boy. Spock's still standing guard outside. Wanna join him?"

When Kirk does not reply, Leonard adds quietly, "I need to change her bandages, Jim." So the Captain nods his head _okay_, but as he stiffly moves towards the door, his mind is exhaused (upset) and uncertain.

He is praying, _Oh God, please. Not again._


	5. Chances of Ill Fortune

**Please make sure that you have read the previous chapter.**

**

* * *

**

Chances of Ill-Fortune

The biggest mistake Captain James T. Kirk makes is not telling Spock or McCoy about his doubts and dreams. He knows that the Basilisk is purposefully trying to distract him from the reality of his situation. Convincing Jim of his own death and the subsequent helplessness of his lovers—yes, that is distracting. Jim likes to think that he would not leave Bones or Spock in such a way, but deep down, he acknowledges the truth. Their lives have always been, and shall always be, more precious than his own. If Jim feels that there is no alternative, he will give his life in exchange for theirs (and his crew—or a stranger) in a heart-beat. Of course, none of the three bring up this upsetting subject because, time and again, how often have one of them almost died for a similar—if not, exact—reason? Jim hates the accusation _self-sacrificing_, and he may try to verbally deny it, but if someone knows how to read Jim Kirk, that person will comprehend the seriousness in his face and know that Jim lies. He's a Captain; self-sacrifice often proves to be the captain's duty. (Jimmy always flinches at the thought of the survivors of that captain's duty—he's one himself.)

Kirk poses a not-so-idle question to Spock. "Do you think the Basilisk is capable of mind control?"

Spock, eyebrow rising, replies without hesitation. "Yes, Captain."

"Why?"

"He speaks through others. The action requires more than mere force; one must literally implant their desire to speak in the intended and manipulate the body do so physically. The control of the brain—and the mind—are both necessary to accomplish such a task."

Jim turns his head so that Spock will not read any incriminating thoughts in his face. Spock speaks, rather closely, from his side. "Captain, what is the pertinence of your question?"

Jim knows just how perceptive a Vulcan is—so he subtly shifts the rest of his body in line with his head (away). "We need to determine what weapons the enemy has at his disposal, Mr. Spock. I will not have any man of mine go into battle unprepared."

There is silence. Of course, Mr. Spock is well-versed in Jim's view of mission tactics; he's been privy to years of watching Jim lead the Enterprise through dangerous situations. But this quietness—though inherent in the Vulcan—makes Jim nervous. Spock is thinking too hard.

So Jim says, a little too cocky, over his shoulder, "I'll just check in with the detail down the hall. The security officers are bored from lack of a good fight. We're all twitchy on the trigger right now."

It's the "Jim" said so firmly that does not allow the Captain to take that final step out of the room; it makes his heart beat a little faster.

He turns around, says, "Spock?" and hopes that the shadows obscure his true expression.

"Leonard tells me that your rest was disturbed last night."

"Bones tells you a lot of things, Spock. Most of which you don't deign to acknowledge."

"Incorrect. Doctor McCoy often speaks in… exaggeration, which I find illogical but curious."

Jim gives a little laugh and gestures with a hand as if to say _He's Bones, what can you do?_ "You know how I can't sleep, Spock, when there's trouble."

"Indeed," the Vulcan agrees.

Another, more insistent, "_Jim_" catches Kirk again before he can escape. This time, the Captain stands still.

"You may approach either Leonard or myself, if you cannot rest." _If you need us_, the words are unspoken.

Jim replies, half in shadow with a bare lift of his mouth, "I know, Spock." He exits.

* * *

"What did he say?"

"He was evasive."

"Of course he was, Spock. Gettin' Jim to talk about his worries is like pulling a stubborn tooth—you just have to _yank _damned hard."

"Fascinating."

There is a heart-felt sigh. "Don't worry. I'll corner Jim when I can."

"Thank you."

A pause between the two. "Spock?"

"Yes, Leonard?"

"You don't think—"

McCoy does not have to finish. Spock says, "I hope not… but I fear so."

* * *

Jim finishes his talk with the security officers and is almost back to his rooms when a man appears out of a corner. "Captain!" he calls. The word is urgent and low, almost afraid.

Jim stops, hand sneaking to his belt. "Show yourself."

A servant (not a Lesser) leans out of a shadow towards the end of the hall (as it curves out of sight). "Captain," the man says again. "You haven't much time."

"No one has attempted to attack us again." Jim takes one step forward. "Though, Yuise. She was stabbed. Why?"

"The Master does not explain; he never explains!"

There is an anxiety pouring off of this one, Jim decides. Funny, the servants have always been silent (and blank) since the delegation party's arrival. Jim's gut protests. He is about to tell the man to leave (_and if he sees the Basilisk, to tell the bastard he's a coward_) when the next words stop Kirk cold.

"He's going to take you, Sir!"

"What?" Jim half-snaps, tries to ignore the memory of liquid sliding down his throat. "I won't go anywhere—"

"He's going to take your—" The word is almost unrecognizable with nerves. His translator says "soul."

Jim shifts, wants to know, "Why me?"

"The Master needs it."

_He needs my soul? Shit._

The man is speaking hurriedly now, like a confession. "The Mark of the Third is soon! That's why he requested negotiations. _Please help us! _We have no more to give him, and he'll—" The rest of the sentence snaps off in a strangled shriek.

"Hey!" Jim is already moving forward. (Apprehension is abandoned.) "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

There is the sound of a scrape, a muffled cry—which has Jim launching into a run. By the time Kirk makes it to the end of the hallway, no one is there. On the stone tile, an object lies; Jim's eye catches the glint of red. He bends down and picks it up.

Turning it over in his hand, Jim feels sick. It's an engraved sheath for the dagger.

* * *

Surprisingly, Spock does not want to inspect Jim's new discovery. The Vulcan only stares at it briefly before proceeding with another series of questioning. Finally, Jim has to say "Enough! Spock, of course I heard the man!"

The Vulcan repeats his question. "Were you within sufficient range to see this servant speak, Captain?"

Jim turns to Bones, who proves he is in cahoots with the First Officer. "Answer his question, Jim."

At Jim's glare, Spock remarks, "I do not doubt your account of the event."

"Then what are you driving at, Mr. Spock?"

Moving in a cautious circle, the Vulcan tells both the Captain and the Doctor of his concern. "On the initial day of our arrival, after we were shown to our guest quarters, I attempted to acquire from multiple servants the location of your room, Jim."

Kirk settles his hip against a waist-high curio table, crossing his arms. McCoy looks from Spock to Jim and back.

"I concluded that the servants are not willfully silent. They are mute."

Jim stares at Spock, letting his words ripen. "Mute. Physically mute?"

"Yes."

"But—"

"—this servant spoke to you."

McCoy interrupts. "Well, quit jockeying around theories! The only way we can be sure is if I can scan one of 'em." When Jim agrees, Leonard tacks on, "And, damn it, you aren't going alone, Jim!"

"Bones, it's not like the Basilisk is going to suck my soul out from my body."

"Considering the kind of hoodoo the Enterprise gets involved in, kid, I wouldn't cross that possibility off the list just yet." (It never fails to amuse Jim that Bones still calls him kid, after all these years.)

"Fine, I and a security officer—"

"No, you and Spock—"

"Spock needs to stay with you!"

"—and I are going _together_."

Jim knows when arguing is futile. He likes to do it anyway. "What about Karla?"

"She's passed out on pain killers. I'll leave instructions just in case." McCoy walks away to do just that.

While they wait, Jim fidgets just once before he has to speak. "Spock, if we encounter the Basilisk and things turn... dangerous, I want you get Bones out."

"My duty is to oversee the safety of the Captain."

"I won't have another harmed on my behalf. I'm the one he wants."

"Can you be certain, Jim, of the Basilisk's intentions?"

When Jim says _yes _quite fiercely, Spock's eyes narrow, but he does not argue once the Captain adds, "That's an order, Mr. Spock."

McCoy returns. The three pick up a security officer, arm themselves, and the search begins.

* * *

The discarded sheath glows, then dims, on a nearby table. The door to the adjacent room opens and a woman emerges. She trails a handful of bandages and drops them into a puddle on the floor. (The bandages are white, without stain.) Lifting the sheath to eye-level, Karla Yuise studies it, smiles, and it vanishes as if it never were.

* * *

The Palace is empty halls of gleaming white stone and dark corners.

Leonard shivers, not for the first-time, and walks closely behind Jim and Spock. The security officer at their backs is unusually quiet too. Len feels that he must break this numbing silence or he'll go mad. "Jim, where are the people?"

Kirk keeps striding along as he answers. "Your guess is as good as mine, Bones. Four days ago, this place was packed. It seemed… normal."

"Now everybody has disappeared. God, why do we have to get into these situations?"

"Doctor, the Enterprise has little choice in matter of her assigned missions. Starfleet—"

"Yeah, well, Command can send us into God-knows-what after they've gotten off their asses and experienced the kind of shit we have to survive through!"

"Your language is unnecessary."

"It makes me feel better. How many times do I say that, you green-blooded hobgoblin!"

"Okay, the Captain orders no arguing until we are back on the Enterprise."

"You saying you think that Spock and I can't argue and save your hide at the same time?"

"Bones, are you kidding me? You two will argue over my corpse." If the Captain flinches at his own words, neither the First Officer nor the CMO will notice.

"Don't talk about death, Jim." McCoy's words come out harshly.

"I agree with Leonard."

The Captain stops. The security officer behind them almost runs into McCoy at the abrupt halt, but the fellow takes one look at his three superiors and decides to give them some space. Jim ignores anything and anyone but Spock and McCoy. He tells them, succinctly, "I'm not going to die on this planet."

"Is that a promise?"

"It's a fact," Jim says with a hard look in his eyes. "I don't care what the circumstances are, what you—_either of you_—" Both of his lovers are staring intently at Jim (wondering now). "—think is going on. I WILL NOT DIE HERE." Jim turns on his heel, then. "And if our enemy plans just that, we'll have to show him how severly mistaken he is."

Leonard reaches out to touch the Captain's hand. "We're always with you."

Jim smiles and says, "Yeah, I know. And I'm grateful… because I need you both."

Spock holds out his fingers, in a silent request. Jim complies. There is a spark of something sharp and sweet that passes between their touching fingertips.

The Captain will remember it, later, in the direst of moments.


	6. The Monster of a Thousand Souls

**The Monster of a Thousand Souls**

Lieutenant Jonathan Reeves is peering into an open-faced alcove when he feels a light brush against his arm. Phaser reflexively rising, he stops dead still and listens—attempts to sense any presence. Then the hairs at the back of his neck lift in warning, as a quiet whistling drifts to him. He inches from his spot, turning around slowly, and moves back into the main corridor.

Sudden shadows reach from the walls, seem longer than normal; the hall itself looks changed, though the lieutenant has not traveled far from the group. He's left them just five paces down, could hear them a minute or two before (when did the sound stop?), talking and moving about.

Now, however, he is inexplicably alone. Reeves shifts on his feet, wall at his back, and calls "Captain?"

The whistling starts up again, louder and to the left. Reeves prepares himself, checks the setting on his phaser, and decides to scout farther ahead. _Never'll find the Captain by just standing around, Jon._ A shadow paces his movements. (It's not his own.)

He enters a small room cautiously, announces his presence with "Mr. Spock? Doctor McCoy?" All is bare, except for a chair lying on its side in the corner. Reeves can make out no devices attached to the chair (straps or otherwise); and he sees no signs of a disturbance—or resident, for that matter, of any kind.

Thinking idly of rats, he shivers.

The security officer is almost to the door when he hears the echo of a _thunk-thunk_. He turns around… and stares at the upright chair. Though the nervous swallowing is automatic, Reeves gives no other signs of the bad feeling forming in the pit of his stomach.

"Who's there?" he asks. "I'm armed. Who's there?"

It's surprising to him, when he gets an answer.

_Who is not here, Jon?_

"What? Where are you?"

A hand touches the back of his neck, below his hairline. Reeves jabs his elbow back as he spins around and meets nothing but air.

_Oh, Jon dear. Who is not here?_

"Stop that and show yourself!"

The chair slides out of the shadows with a scrape and Jon is half-shocked, half-relieved to see Miss Yuise step out of a dark corner and sit down.

"Miss Yuise! What are you doing here? Why are you—aren't you—" his voice trails off.

She smiles at him in a weird way. (He's seen it before, he thinks.) Reeves takes two steps away from her, his phaser set on target. "You're not Yuise, are you?"

_I am an essence… of her._

Sweat breaks out on his forehead. Her mouth isn't moving. It doesn't move and he can _hear_ her.

"You're not real. You're some kind of trick! One of his… his illusions!"

The woman's smile drops away. She lifts her right hand and the phaser in his hands disappears. The man jumps, then, towards the door—Captain always said it's better to follow your instinct and his practically screams _run!_

There is no door. There is nothing but solid stone wall that meets the palms of Jon's hands. "Let me out! You can't—you—let me out!"

He flattens his back against the wall and stares at her.

_I have a task for you._

"No."

_So small. I won't hurt you. It won't hurt._

The way the voice says that scares him to pieces. "No!" he says roughly.

_You won't be lonely, Jon. You'll have me… and the others. All of us_.

She rises from the chair (almost flowing) and comes toward him. Shadows are coalescing into a deep darkness like a backdrop behind her.

"Stay away from me!"

_Join us. Give yourself to the Master._

A steady wailing builds, out of the air. Jon trembles. Distorted moaning faces are forming out of that pitch black, thousands of weeping faces.

He slides down the wall, wide-eyed—his trembling now a prominent shake. The thing that is Yuise stops at the tip of his boots. He cannot look away, not as her face shifts, slides and becomes another face. And then another and another—a quick parade of slack jaws and haunted eyes, until it comes to rest on a visage so gruesome—and hollow—a sob breaks from Reeves's throat.

"_Please, don't_—"

_One of us, Jon. So many of us._

"_Stop!_" He puts his arms over his head.

_Master needs it, needs you. _The voice is awful, sounding desolate and starved, inside his head.

_We're so hungry. _

_No_, he thinks desperately. _No no nonononono…_

He is helpless. The darkness grips him, suffocating and cold. It eats his soul alive.

* * *

Leonard frowns down at the tricorder and shakes it a little. _Hell_, he curses. Every time he steps near a corner of this crazy palace, the tricorder comes to life and starts whirring with little anxious beeps. He wants to shout at it, _Shadows don't have vitals, damn it!_ But Spock's always amused enough as it is on his account.

_Where's that pointy-eared computer anyway?_

McCoy turns around and almost has a heart attack.

"Jesus Christ! Are you trying to kill me?" The security officer doesn't look repentant in the least. _In fact_, Leonard observes, narrowing his eyes, _Reeves looks a little pale_.

"You feeling alright, Lieutenant?" McCoy steps into the man's personal space and waves his tricorder in wide half-circle. It beeps once and dies. "Goddamn it! What's the matter with you?"

"Doctor."

"Hmmm? Hold on a minute, I gotta adjust—"

A hand grabs the tricorder from him and tosses it away.

Leonard is incensed. "What the Hell! That's not a toy, you damn fool!"

The man repeats "Doctor" and levels a phaser at McCoy. When Leonard stares into the other's eyes, he notices—finally—that they are heavily dilated. Black.

During the attack, the medikit strap over Leonard's chest breaks and equipment spills across the floor.

* * *

Kirk glances up, then around and asks, "Where's Bones?"

Spock goes still, listening, and takes off in a direction with Kirk on his heels.

They round the corner into a person-less room. Kirk's boot cracks down on something hard and he steps back to look at it. The floor, Jim realizes in a daze, is scattered with Bones' things. Spock straightens with a tattered, empty medikit dangling from his hand.

The two lock eyes and share a wordless single thought: _Leonard._

After the longest period of Kirk's life, both are boiling over with fear as the minutes compile and Leonard is not found. Finally, it's by sheer desperate luck (and not small amount of panic) that Kirk and Spock stumble into the courtyard of the Palace and discover McCoy.

Standing beneath the center statue is Leonard and Lieutenant Reeves. Doctor McCoy is slumped against the stone, his wrist anchored in one of the officer's hands.

Kirk gives a little shout (of relief) but as he gets closer to the pair, slows down to study them, the dim evening light hits the left side of Bones' face. From temple to chin, it's covered in dried blood.

Before he can call out his lover's name, Jim hears Leonard plead softly "Please, not him. I'll go with you!"

* * *

The security officer—a fellow crewman, a man whose arm McCoy remembers setting after too careless of a training session—holds Leonard tightly and refuses to let go. One would think, upon first glance, that the young lieutenant attempts to shield the doctor from danger. The truth is, simply, that Len is prisoner to a madman. Not under the Captain's orders, but the Basilisk's. It's complicated; and worse, it is just plain frightening.

McCoy meets the eyes of Kirk but finds that he cannot speak. Jim is clenching and unclenching his fists (they subtly shake) and, for a brief moment, Leonard wonders what Jim must read in his face. Fear? Yes. Will Jim understand that Len's fear is not for himself?

No.

Kirk will only see the obvious: one of his lovers is in danger (about to die) and is afraid. Leonard feels the swell of panic in his chest, because—after years of companionship, brotherhood, and _more_ between them—he knows that little can stop Jim Kirk from rash action.

Will Spock?

The Vulcan stands rigid, as if a mere breath upon his person will instigate an avalanche of _something _previously unknown (and terrifying). _Spock_! Leonard pushes through their bond.

Like before, there is a faint echo but it is wrong and strange.

He tries very hard to tell Spock: _Stop Jim!_ He hopes, prays, that Spock will hear him (and listen). Jim is the one in danger, despite the phaser twisting into Leonard's side and the hard (oddly cold) arm pressing into his neck. (He has to gasp raggedly to breathe.)

That they come to be this way, at the precipice of an ending, brings tears to Leonard's eyes. One of them—his heart wrenches—won't make it out of this courtyard alive. Above all things, Leonard agonizes over the thought of death—of the four men standing tense, each is innocent.

The guilty, however, is nowhere to be seen. Only heard (and his intentions felt).

"Let them both go," Jim says lowly (he pants, as if his heart is going crazy). "I'm warning you, let them go!"

The Lieutenant smiles and says, "What will you trade, James Tiberius?"

"Jim…" Leonard manages to choke. "Jim, don't—"

"It's okay, Bones." Kirk tries to send him reassurance through a small smile, but it isn't heartfelt and McCoy knows it.

Leonard tries again. "Spock, don't let…Jim…_it's_ _a—monster_—"

The pressure on his windpipe increases and the last words gag in his throat. His hands pull futilely at the muscled arm, but there are dark spots begin to dance randomly in his vision. His brain absently calculates the seconds left until oxygen-deprivation causes a full black-out. (That number is not high.)

"Stop! Don't hurt him! What do you want?"

Spock suddenly moves (breaks his trance) and steps in front of Kirk. "You will release the doctor," he says coldly. "You will release the mind of Lieutenant Reeves, and we will _not _trade the Captain's life."

Reeves, a serious and quiet man, laughs loudly. It is truly unnerving, and indicative of his possession. "I forgive you the trespass, Vulcan. I must conduct this business solely with your Captain."

"Then you've got me. We'll discuss whatever it is that you want; just us. But you leave my crew—" Jim swallows hard. "—alone, do you understand?"

Reeve's eyes are very dark, watchful. "Such an amusing Human. I accept."

Suddenly Leonard can breathe, and he does so—falling to his knees and drinking in the air. A_ thud_ sounds behind him, and he pulls away from Spock (how does the Vulcan move so fast?) to look. Lieutenant Reeves is face-up and limp as a rag doll (breathing?); Len cannot help but shift forward to feel for his pulse.

"My medikit?"

"Destroyed, Doctor."

Noting the sluggishness of the man's pulse, McCoy steadies himself against Spock and calls for Jim. When there is no immediate answer, his heart skips a beat. (His brain denies instinct with a painful _No_.) Spock turns, still holding McCoy. Leonard must be clutching painfully at the Vulcan's shoulder.

Jim is gone.


	7. Resolution

**There is a mention of a race encountered in a TOS episode "Errand of Mercy." We will assume, for the purpose of this story, that those events take place in AOS 'verse sooner or later.**

* * *

**Resolution**

Jim is detained by the appearance of the Basilisk in his path to Bones and Spock. The slightly transparent form asks Jim, without speaking, "Should I finish this game, Captain, or is your word honorable?"

Sucking in a breath, Jim nods his head and reluctantly looks away from his lovers. _Spock has McCoy—the man is safe. They'll both be safe_, Jim reminds himself. He turns on his heel and follows the gliding image of man from the courtyard.

They do not enter the Palace. Rather, the Basilisk leads the Captain through the twists and turns of the Garden Maze until they come to a dead-end of tall, broken-branched hedges. Through the sliver of a parting between them is an old mortared wall.

"Close your eyes and step forward."

Jim's mind balks at those words. "Into the wall?"

"Shall we end the charade now? I have no more time for hesitancy, James Tiberius."

Jim closes his eyes, thinks of the bloodied side of Bones' face and begins to walk forward. He pulls from the reserves of an iron will to keep his eyes from opening (he hates being blind). His body walks through what feels like mist.

"Cease."

He does so and opens his eyes. The room is shabby, walls covered in half-rotten tapestry and stagnant dark water puddling uneven patches of stone floor. Jim almost brings his arm up to cover his nose, for the air has the rank smell of decay.

"Your servants are a little slack on the job, Your Excellency. You may want to acquire better hired help."

There is a man's sharp laugh from behind him. Jim spins around, looks, and stumbles back in horror.

"Does this please you?" says George Kirk. Jim will wonder later if the Basilisk had copied his father's voice too.

"No!" His temper soars. "That's not _your face! _Use someone else's—_anyone else's!_" (Jim's heart is in his throat.)

The elder Kirk slides away and reforms into the visage the Captain has come to associate with the Basilisk—cold, ageless like polished marble. Jim drags stiff fingers through his hair and gets down to business. "What is it that you want from me? My soul?"

The Basilisk stares ahead and begins to walk slowly through the room, hands tucked into the sleeves of a long ornate robe. "I need more than your soul."

"What else is there?"

Jim slowly follows the drifting ruler. They both stop at a tall pedestal on which a glass ball rests. Jim thinks there might be something flittering about inside. He cannot be sure but is unwilling to approach it.

"I need all which composes James Tiberius Kirk. I need…" The Basilisk's voice deepens from his usual cadence. (There is a frightening hunger in it.) "…a new host."

Kirk's mouth thins into a grim line. "Why?"

The Basilisk says, "You are like what I once was—ambitious; one which knows power and accepts it into himself."

Jim hates the thought of being anything like this monster. "I wouldn't say we are alike in the least. I don't manipulate people."

"You wield control over others. You are _Captain_." His emphasis tightens the muscles in Jim's back.

"I make necessary command decisions. I take responsibility for the power I use—and I try my best to do what's right in the name of what—and who—I represent." Jim approaches the Basilisk from the opposite side, circling. "As far as I can tell, _you only take_."

"I feed."

That stops the Captain. "Feed?"

"Yes." The Basilisk tilts his head (perhaps eyeing Jim in a way that a man eyes his dinner). "On the energy of the soul."

Jim crosses his arms. "Either you explain everything, or we can end this talk right now."

The voice of the Basilisk (where does it come from?) stays silent. Then, "As you wish. You will understand soon enough, regardless."

"I'm listening."

"When a… being dies, that which is its essence releases from the body. The 'soul' as you Terrans term it. It is a state of energy that resides within you—is you. Upon death, the soul supersedes into a more potent form of energy." The Basilisk's mouth gapes as if he laughs. "Sadly, a state which many infant races are not capable of sustaining."

Jim stares. "The Organians." Suddenly, he does wish for that race of people—at least, they were peaceful in their dealings with the Captain (and Klingons).

"Beings of pure energy, though once much like the rest of our galaxy." The Basilisk smiles, then, and Jim decides that all this bastard is missing is the razor-sharp teeth of a predator. "You may refer to me as the… antipathy of the Organians."

"So you lack a soul of your own? Wow, somehow that does _not _surprise me."

The Basilisk's voice drifts through Jim's mind, amused. "You will not offend me, Captain. I am what I am. I do what I must to survive."

All this lacks, Jim decides, is a fascinated inquisitive Vulcan. If Kirk gets the chance (sadly, he doesn't think that he will), he shall have to recall this conversation verbatim to satisfy Spock's curiosity. "Why do you need me as a… host?"

"What you see before you is an illusion. My true form is unpleasant, given its age."

_No shit. Tell me something I haven't already guessed. _"Don't worry, I'd rather you didn't prove it."

The Basilisk ignores his flippant remark. "Like the Organians, I project an appearance that you can comprehend, if I must, to mask my true self. I can create many illusions if my reserve is sufficient. However, I cannot sustain this body. My… habits wear it down."

Suddenly that servant's words make sense. "'The Mark of the Third,'" Jim repeats aloud.

"Yes, every third turn of one hundred of your Earth years, I must acquire a new host." The Basilisk reaches out and Jim steels himself from stepping back. "I have chosen you, James Tiberius. I find your form pleasing. I can taste a hint of your soul; it is delicious."

"And you don't find it easy to just body-snatch me like one of your Lessers?"

"By mutual contract, I do not feed on the Lessers. They serve my will as I deem necessary and in return I do not consume them."

Jim's waiting for the "at least not until the Lesser becomes useless." He doubts that the Basilisk is wasteful with potential meals. _Doesn't matter. The Lessers are still prisoners to a monster._

"So you only eat the souls of the 'servants' until they waste away," he says in disgust. "Do you cut out their tongues too?"

"So harsh. What need have I to physically harm such pathetic animals? No, Captain—" The creature rests his right hand over the glass ball as he speaks, "—a majority of this planet's native inhabitants are born mute. I believe that they were once—what is your word?—ah yes, empaths, and only required the necessity of mind-speech."

Jim swallows. "You're—"

"An out-worlder? Originally, but this has been my home for many years. I almost—forget, sometimes."

_God, this thing—it's a plague._ Jim feels a torrent of questions run through his mind as he processes the implications of the Basilisk's words.

_Does it descend upon a planet of harmless people and consume them into oblivion? How many years—millennia—before it finishes feeding? How long has the Basilisk been here? _

_How long before it moves on?_

"I need you… _Jim_. There has been no candidate for my transform until now. I must have you—_all _that you are."

"And if I refuse?"

"You will not refuse. You have seen my power; you understand, as only the ruthless of your kind can. Should you deny my request…" The glass ball under the Basilisk's hand swirls with blackness. "First, I will consume your party—your lovers—and then I will lure the rest of your crew to the surface." Jim feels an iciness settling into his limbs. "I shall feed upon them until they are but each a faint memory of himself—that of a face—and joins the collective of what remains."

Jim wants to rage at the blatant ill-will of the Basilisk's callous words, but his mouth is dry and his legs won't move, as if lead weights bear them down.

"Do you accept, Jim?"

He closes his eyes and sways. He pictures Spock standing in the doorway to the Captain's quarters, saying, "Permission to enter?" Bones, grinning, as he comes out of the Captain's bathroom rubbing at his wet hair and wearing Jim's gold command shirt.

Both Spock and Bones—Mr. Spock and Doctor McCoy—standing in front of Jim as a gaggle of women at a Federation ball attempt to commandeer the Captain for too many dances. (He loves that memory, in particular how the evening ended in a tangle of sheets and limbs.)

Kissing McCoy senseless in the CMO's office.

Touching fingertips with Spock secretly in the lift.

Sweet sensation; electric shocks.

All of it, a thousand wonderful memories and little regret.

When Jim returns to the world again, the Captain is resigned to the triumph in the Basilisk's eyes.

* * *

So it is that the end circles back to the beginning. Spock and Leonard find Jim inside the Center Court facing the dais with hollow eyes. When they shake his body—catch him and pull him into their arms—the look shatters into disquieting adoration. Jim touches Spock's face and rubs his cheek across the Vulcan's. He hooks his arm around Leonard's neck and touches their foreheads together.

_What's wrong, Jim? Are you hurt? What did he do to you? Jim? Say something!— _

A hundred rapid-fire questions and the only answer that Jim can give them is a sad laugh and the words, "It's over. He'll let us return to the Enterprise now."

Leonard pulls back. "What did you do, Jim?"

"Nothing, Bones." Jim does not say _not yet_.

"I don't believe you."

Jim looks to Spock, who adds, "Nor I, Jim. The Basilisk would not free us without achieving his goal."

The Captain stays quiet; his arms drop to his sides and he walks away, knowing that Leonard and Spock will follow. He leads them unerringly back to the section of the Palace in which they reside as guests. First, Kirk stops in the gathering room of the security officers. He tells the startled faces to pack what they brought. Moving on, the three walk into the Captain's rooms.

It's then that Kirk tells them, "We leave at dawn."

"Like Hell!" McCoy steps up to Kirk (doesn't touch him). "Look at my face, Jim. Is that the result of _nothing?_ You are telling us that this… thing that harms people as easily as it breathes is letting us go?" Leonard snaps, "_Bullshit!_"

The Captain's words have no heat to them. "Nothing I say will change your mind. What will it take to convince you, Bones? When we set foot on the transporter?"

"When Lieutenant Reeves functions better than a shell of a man! Or did you conveniently forgotten the Basilisk's _victims?_"

Jim's eyes grow dark. "It can't be helped."

"Not even Karla's random stabbing?"

"Yuise is dead."

McCoy stops. "What?"

"She's dead. She's_ been dead _since the night of the Basilisk's entertainment," Jim tells them bitterly.

"He told you that?"

"Yes. Eventually."

Spock interrupts. "Captain, what else did the Basilisk apprise you of?"

"And what did he do to Reeves?" Leonard wants to know.

Jim looks away, his hand sliding into his pocket. (His fingers touch against the cool glass of a small bottle.) "Not much. I will explain later, once we get out of here." His voice is quiet as he says, "That's an order, gentlemen."

Leonard's jaw is working and Spock remains unmoved. So Jim does the only thing that he can, to save them all—he walks away.


	8. Checkmate

**Check-mate**

* * *

"Jim's crazy."

Spock looks at the enraged doctor and lifts his eyebrow. "Is this your medical opinion, Doctor?"

"It's always been my medical opinion, but I had really hoped that the poor kid wouldn't showcase it to the entire universe!" Len realizes, then, that Jim did just that a very long time ago and somehow McCoy has continued to stick by him all along. (_Go figure._)

"What would you suggest that I do, Leonard? Declare him mentally incompetent?" They've been on this vein before; it does little to aid the passing of the long hours of a sleepless night.

"_Hell no._ That's not what I—look, Spock. Jim may be off-the-wall, but he's _our_ off-the-wall loon. We need to make him see that the Basilisk won't just let us go! That's fucking crazy!" McCoy has almost come full-circle to his original rant. He mutters about harebrained, foolishly blind, willfully stubborn Captains and devious monsters.

Spock probably decides to allow Leonard this moment of release and stares off into the distance. When Len comes back to himself (finishes stuffing random Captain's clothes into a bag), he stands beside the Vulcan and tries to see what his lover does.

"What are we looking at?"

"The grounds of the Palace, Doctor."

"Oh. Well don't we have more important things to be doin', like tying Jim-boy to a chair and forcing a confession out of him?"

"Your suggestion is not only illogical, it is woefully igno—" Spock breaks off, which has McCoy narrowing his eyes. Suddenly, the Vulcan takes Leonard by the arm and drags the doctor from the Captain's rooms at a rapid pace. McCoy only flails and has to be tugged along like a stubborn puppy for just under three minutes before he gives in and settles on cursing vividly at Spock.

"Damn it, Spock! Let me go! I can walk, you blasted hobgoblin! Spock? SPOCK!"

Leonard is released unexpectedly; he would have tilted over into a bush had not a quick hand jerked him against his companion's side.

"Look, Doctor."

Spock shoves his science tricorder under McCoy's nose. The man listens to the frantic _whir-whir_ of the device and takes it into his hands. He squints at the readings. "I don't understand, Spock. How come the energy spikes are so high? This planet isn't exactly a hotbed of radiation."

"Precisely, Doctor. The readings are not in conjunction with the scientific data previously gathered from this planet. The particle classification of the fields of energy are familiar, but I cannot identify it further without access to the Enterprise databanks."

"Familiar?" McCoy questions sharply. "As in what, Spock? An experiment you studied or as in a place we've been?"

"The delineation is unclear."

"Damn. I'm no expert on the life-cycle of space bodies, but couldn't it be emanating from the planet?"

"Unlikely."

"So we're talking about a foreign source."

Spock's eyes are bright with speculation. He tells the doctor, "I have reviewed the documentation from the initial planetary exploration team—before the reign of the Basilisk. If my conclusions are correct, we may assume that the Basilisk and this new data correlate to the same time period."

McCoy is blunt. "I don't care if the sky turned purple and the maids fell into the sleep of Rip Van Winkle—any lead is a hope for fixing this mess. We have to figure out what's going on, Spock, _before it's too late._"

"Agreed." Spock and McCoy set off to trace the waves of energy as far as they can. (It's better than doing nothing, better than waiting for the end.) Spock asks, as they enter the Garden Maze, "Who is Rip Van Winkle?"

"He's a man who slept too long."

"You refer to a coma?"

McCoy laughs. "No, Spock. Haven't you read Irving?" Leaves rustle as their voices start to fade. "You poor bastard. You know, Spock, you must assume I have ample time to molly-coddle your curiosity…"

The echo of conversation is lost among the growth of the garden. Dawn is close.

* * *

Jim returns to his rooms after a long night of roaming the white halls. He's ironically reminded of his habits aboard the Enterprise, when he cannot sleep. Unfortunately for Jim, this is not Enterprise; and he's not likely to see foot on his ship again.

He is surprised to find his rooms abandoned. _Where are Spock and Bones?_ There is a bag filled haphazardly with clothes on the edge of the bed. McCoy's packing, he knows. The doctor never folds clothes. _Why should I?_ Jim hears the memory of Bones' voice. _You can fold 'em for the both of us, Jimmy._ Jim complained that he wasn't a housekeeper and the doctor wouldn't stop laughing. Secretly, Kirk likes to sneak into the CMO's room once a month and tidy up. The doctor never talks about his elusive quarter-brownie. Does Leonard know it's Jim? Now, quite wistfully, Kirk wishes that he could admit that particular secret to Bones.

He sits on the bed, hands gripping his knees.

_Stop it, Kirk!_ he chastises.

Jim has tried to reconcile his choice with the heartbreak it will cause his lovers. He's tried so very hard. But his heart hates what his brain will accept.

Jim rubs at his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose.

_No safe quarter for the damned_, he thinks. Pulling out the vial of a dark liquid, he rolls it between his hands. How, exactly, is this stuff supposed to work? Is it poison? Does it paralyze, make him vulnerable to the Basilisk's transformation?

Jim does not understand, exactly, but he comprehends the Basilisk's orders well enough.

_Take this, James Tiberius, and upon the breaking of dawn, consume it._

_It will kill me?_

The Basilisk smiled. _All will end as you know it, yes._ The ruler must have seen the hesitation in the Captain's eyes. His parting thought lingers long after Kirk finds himself unexplainably in the Center Court.

_Think of those you would save, as you drink, and it shall be so. I promise._

At least he's allowed to say goodbye, to watch his crew—and his heart—beam back to the Enterprise. Yet somehow, that small favor is not as comforting as it should be.

Jim stands up. It's almost time to send everyone home.

* * *

"Damn, please tell me that you've got a map of this place in your brain, Spock." McCoy turns a slow circle in the cool darkness. "I can't tell right from left in this God-forsaken maze!"

"Doctor, patience. We have almost tracked the energy's peak—here."

They round a corner and stop.

"It's a dead-end."

"Yes."

"Spock. _It's a dead-end._" Leonard repeats. "I don't see anything _good _about a dead-end. Damn it! Now we have to start all—Did you just sigh at me?"

The Vulcan sighs again—in fact, louder this time. "Yes, Leonard." There is a pause. "I find that I must release my… exasperation at your actions or my concentration decreases by 15.6%."

McCoy's bright white teeth can be seen gleaming in the night. "Why, darlin', to think I drive ya to distraction—"

"Doctor, if you please. Shine the light to your left."

McCoy does so with a grand swirl. "Just a wall, my Vulcan."

Spock steps up to the gap in the hedges and runs his tricorder along it. "Readings indicate that the energy source is no farther than six point two meters.

"In the wildland, Spock? There's nothing but dirt and long grass over this wall."

Spock addresses the issue mildly. "I do not accept the current presentation of this planet as factual. It fails to coincide with previous—"

McCoy gets into Spock's face. "We don't have time for guesses, Spock! Can't you see it's gettin' light out here?"

"Doctor."

"And then we'll all be beamed directly onto the Basilisk's dining room table, like one conveniently delivered_ juicy_ meal—"

"Leonard."

"Nuh-uh, Spock. I want answers—" McCoy braces himself against the wall to lean into the Vulcan's face. "—and we'd damned well—_what the—!_"

Leonard's arm disappears into the stone up to his elbow and only Spock's arm around the doctor's chest prevents McCoy from proceeding after it.

Len jerks his arm back and stares at it (possibly surprised that it's still whole). "_Shit._"

"Fascinating," Spock clarifies. "An illusion." He wastes no time and pulls his protesting Human through the wall.

* * *

Jim and a crowd of security officers stand in the courtyard. Lieutenant Reeves lies, pale and silent, on a makeshift gurney at their feet. Kirk is livid.

He cannot find his First Officer and his CMO, has no way to contact them without communicators. Dawn is just moments away and…

_Bones and Spock aren't here._

Questioning his men does no good; no one saw or heard either of them leave.

_And there's no time!_

Jim is pacing when the Basilisk appears.

"Captain!" The security officers are as jumpy as Kirk.

He says without preamble, "Not yet. They aren't here."

"We have a deal, Captain." The Basilisk opens his left hand and a communicator appears.

"No," Jim barks. "I need more time!" He reaches for the communicator but the Basilisk merely waves his hand and sends Jim flying. His back connects with the statue. Through the subsequent shouting, Jim hears the Basilisk say, "My patience wears thin, James Tiberius. You will not deny me."

Hauling himself painfully upright, Jim tries to reach the horrified crewmen as they start to collapse one by one in a shroud of blackness. He can only manages a strangled "No!"

"Only your lovers are left. Will you join me and save them?"

Jim trembles in a building rage. "Do you have them?"

The Basilisk tilts his head. "What is your choice? Your life or theirs?"

Jim holds up the little bottle between two fingers. "Either you give me Bones and Spock, or I'll drop it."

An echo of dark laughter comes in on the wind. "Whether you drink or not, it matters little. I have the power—"

Whatever the Basilisk intended to say (or gloat), Jim does not find out. There is a low (angry?) rumbling of the stones in the courtyard. The Basilisk's head turns away just for a second and Jim could swear that he glows. Then the Basilisk disappears altogether.

Jim stands, staring into the empty courtyard, his heart pounding. Eyes turning to steel, he relaxes his fingers and the vial smashes upon the stones. He seeks his enemy in the only place that he knows the Basilisk won't want him to go—into the Garden Maze.

* * *

"Goddamn you, you fool Vulcan! I can't believe you just did that!"

"We are unharmed."

McCoy's jaw practically drops. "Of all the dangerous, untried, and damn _stupid _things to do…"

"Your arm was unaffected. It was logical to assume a satisfactory outcome." When Leonard goes slightly red and his eyes blaze, Spock quickly interrupts the on-coming infamous McCoy tirade. "Doctor, there is no time for arguing. We must find the source."

Len purses his lips, unfolds an arm and points into the room. "I'm betting on the crystal ball."

An eyebrow lifting as he turns, Spock tilts his head in study. "Why?"

"'Cause if we're about to devoured by a monster with magic powers, then it's only proper that he's hoodoo-ing us with a crystal ball."

"You must provide me with a list of your references for such events, Doctor—at a later date." Spock walks over the pedestal and stares. McCoy joins him. Together, they watch as it goes from clear to grey to black.

"What did I tell you?"

Spock is busy twisting the dials on his tricorder. He says his favorite word more than once, so McCoy can only assume that they have stumbled upon on that which they wanted to find.

When McCoy lifts a finger to poke at it, the Vulcan tells him sharply, "No!"

"It's glass, Spock. Or something like glass."

"The object is foreign. We must proceed with caution."

"Yes, please proceed with caution," a voice says out of the shadows. Spock and McCoy tense in front of the pedestal as the Basilisk steps into the room, his black eyes intent. "I would hate to break my promise to your Captain."

McCoy's anger is palpable. "The Captain's the only one willing to believe it, I can assure you."

"You do not think me capable of honor?"

Spock says, succinctly, "No."

McCoy slides his hand down Spock's wrist, skin to skin, and prods at their bond. It opens and Len remarks to his other, _He's not moving his mouth, Spock._

_No. He has not done so since our arrival._

_Hmmm. Perhaps he doesn't have a mouth with which to speak._

_Interesting hypothesis, Doctor. _

The next words that the two assimilate (hear) have a tinge of anger. "Rudeness is forbidden in my Palace."

McCoy's eyebrow hikes high. He snorts and says, "One would assume that you forbid the big no-no's, like murder. But then again, what's it matter when _you're the one committing the crime?_"

"What is murder to one may be survival to another, Doctor McCoy. Do you blame the beast who collects his dinner?"

"We're not animals, man!"

"We retain animal instinct."

McCoy turns away in disgust. "If he's a beast, then why don't we put him out of his misery, Spock?"

Spock meets Leonard's eyes. _Do you feel hate for this creature?_

_I hate that he's playing with us. I hate that he wants to hurt Jim._

_I understand, Leonard._

"Enough!"

The bellow resounds in their heads and their link snaps at the surprise of the intrusion. The Basilisk's face is twisting—like two faces fighting for dominance, and McCoy's stomach roils at the sight. He does the only thing that he can—in the brief moment before the Basilisk goes berserk. He pushes the glass ball off the pedestal.

It shatters—not into shards of glass—but into a thousand shrieking voices in a spread of wild black. Len feels Spock pull him in and back them away, to stumble against a wall. The angular sharpness of Spock's chest digs into McCoy's back; they cannot look away.

The Basilisk's mouth goes wide and lets out a miserable howl so loud that stones rattle in the floor. Spock's hands release McCoy to cover his ears and he hunkers down. Doubting that his cursing can be heard over the noise—and truly fearing the blackness boiling up around the Basilisk (it's developing long arms and taloned hands)—McCoy crawls away and starts smacking the walls.

"Goddamn it! _Where are you!_"

"Leonard."

"Shut up, Spock, we're getting outta here!" McCoy intends to smack the wall for emphasis when his right hand goes partially through it. He grabs the kneeling Vulcan with a " C'mon!" They tumble through the illusion.

It's no better in the Maze. McCoy throws his arm up just in time to avoid a face full of leaves. The hedges are practically falling to pieces, as if a spell has been broken. Spock is better now, without the assault on his hearing, so McCoy clutches hard to him as the Vulcan tugs them this way and that.

Leonard shouts, wanting to know, "Do you know where we're going?"

Spock shouts back, "No!"

Oh, how comforting. They have little choice, however, but to keep moving or be swallowed into the collapsing grounds. Spock stops so suddenly that McCoy crashes into him. He pulls at the Vulcan, "What're ya stopping for? Spock!"

Spock ignores him.

"SPOCK!" God damn and Holy Hell! McCoy has no clue how to fell a Vulcan and it's not like he can drag an unconscious Spock out by his pretty pointy ears.

"Jim!" Spock calls, startling Leonard.

Spock sets off to the left, one hand gripping McCoy's wrist. Leonard thinks, ridiculously, of a bloodhound on a scent. He has the crazy urge to say _That's it, Spock, go find Jim!_

So Len settles on calling "Jim!" at the top of his lungs. His heart thuds when an answering "Bones!" comes back over the crashing of the hedges.

"Jim!"

Spock twists them violently to the side, narrowly avoiding the crush of a branch. McCoy coughs out leaves and after a vigorous wiping of his eyes thinks he sees the most beautiful sight in years.

It's Jim—dirty and half-limping—but it's Jim. _Alive._

They meet in a ménage-a-trois press of limbs and grasping hands. Jim is latched onto both of their tunics like he never intends to let go. (McCoy hopes not.)

"Which way's out?" Leonard asks in Jim's ear. The man just shakes his head.

_Ah Hell, back to square-one._ Leonard wonders if they can find a place to ride out the storm. Jim must be thinking the same thing, but there is no more time for planning. The ground shakes like it's waking up, and they all pitch over into a heap, bombarded with a shower of half-rotten leaves and dirt.

Leonard has one moment for a cry of "Jim!" then "Spock!" He feels someone's hand holding in his and squeezes it hard. The world is breaking apart around them, at the dawn of a new day. He hopes they survive it.

* * *

**Don't get your hopes up yet; there's one part left. What's the prognosis? Are they going to live? **


	9. The Undeniable Truth

**The Undeniable Truth**

The tearing of the world ceases after a long hour. Jim, Spock, and McCoy are wound together like one giant mass of praying flesh (at least, in McCoy's case). It's comforting, in a way, because they spend what could possibly be their last few minutes alive in each other's arms, touching with soothing hands and whispering calming words.

Leonard must have fallen into a half-doze because his brain takes too long to recognize the shifting of Spock's shoulder (which is so convenient for resting one's head). Long, rough-padded fingers are lightly squeezing the back of Len's neck.

He grumbles into the shirt, "Please tell me this spot's still safe. The roof's not gonna drop on me again, is it?" He sighs and opens his eyes to stare at the silhouette of Jim's face, at the mix of grimness and wonder. _How can the man always be so alert?_ "Jim," he asks, "how's it looking?"

Jim replies, still keeping watching, "Like disaster."

Len grunts and sits up—or tries to; their shelter is cramped for two people, let alone three. "Haven't felt the ground shake in a while," he remarks (a little hopefully).

"The last tremor of notable seismic activity occurred approximately twenty-nine point six minutes ago."

"Thank you, Spock," McCoy says drily. "But does that mean it's safe to walk around?"

Jim is scooting out of the hidey-hole before Len can protest "Jim, get back here! I wasn't serious, you idiot!"

Spock is already unfolding and crawling forward so Leonard does what he can—he drapes himself across the Vulcan's back and locks his hands around Spock's chest. Spock turns his head to McCoy. "Do you wish me to carry you, Leonard?"

"Now look here, Mr. Spock, just 'cause Jim jumps off the bridge don't mean you gotta go tumbling too!"

Those dark eyes sparkle with amusement. "I follow my Captain."

Leonard curses but lets Spock go out into the world. Len is not far behind. _Just like good little soldiers_, he thinks sarcastically. How does a man get involved with not one but two stubborn lovers?

'_Cause he's as crazy as they are._

McCoy's brain stops attempting to make excuses as he stands in the cold air and gets a good look around. It's all in shambles; not just shambles—it's practically _half-dead_. There is no glowing green and pearly white—no cultivated masterpieces of landscaping; it's a spray of mucky greys and browns and the smell of rotten vegetation.

The ground has swampy patches that suck at McCoy's boots as he takes a very slow walk around the area. Spock is bent over studying a pile of something, so Len doesn't disturb him (or want to find out what fascinates the Vulcan so—it looks like a carcass, McCoy winces). Jim stomps past Leonard with the mumbling words, "Where_ is_ it?"

_Sure would be nice to have a tricorder right about now_, Len thinks wistfully. His hands feel empty and that bothers him.

He hears a shout of "Spock! Bones! Over here!"

Leonard and Spock round a large, up-rooted leave-less plant that must have been one of the sculpted hedges. Jim is standing not far ahead. They come to stand beside him; all three officers stare at the remnants of a crumbling wreck. It could have been a decently sized cottage. Now it is little more than a pile of rubble.

McCoy's eye catches the faint burnt-red of cloth. He points and says, "Please tell me that's not what I think it is."

"On the contrary, Doctor, I believe that your assessment is accurate. Jim has discovered the palace of the Basilisk."

_More like a hovel_, McCoy mutters. "But what about the actual Palace?"

"Look around, Bones." McCoy blinks and complies. "Notice anything?"

"Yeah, it's a wasteland of a planet, Jim. Nothing but miles of…"

"Precisely," Spock agrees. "There is no Palace, nor the remains of a large structure. Only this."

Leonard swears. "We've been tricked!"

Jim's laughter startles them both. When he doesn't stop and has to double over, McCoy severely craves his tricorder. He bends down to Jim's tear-stained face. "Jim? Jim, take a deep breath. No hysterics, okay? I'm not prepped for hysterics!"

"I—I'm not—hysterical, Bones," the Captain manages to choke out.

McCoy exchanges a look with the First Officer. "Well, you're about to make _me _hysterical, so stop it!"

That sobers up the man. Jim straightens with a hand to his back, wincing. Len's already running a professional eye over the cuts and bruises (the one's he can see) and noting the stiffness of the Captain's stance. He'll have to sit Jim down in Sickbay for a serious examination. _If they ever get back to the Enterprise._

"Well," Len wants to know, "should we look for a body?"

They observe one another—and take a step back. Jim says, "Let's get to the ship first. Then send down a scavenger party later." There's no argument from either of his lovers.

It takes a careful eye on their path, but they manage to make it to the courtyard without incident. At one point, McCoy loudly warns both Spock and Jim to "be careful of that hole!" It's not a hole, but rather a thirty-foot long fissure in the earth. No one wants to find out just how deep it goes.

What remains of the courtyard couldn't even classify as the once-extravagant open area of marble statues and gleaming white stones. Bones just chalks up the whole thing to a ridiculously talented (powerful) illusionist. It unnerves him, so to speak, to contemplate just how much of the Palace and its grounds weren't real. They felt real, people lived and worked in them, however briefly. (Didn't they?) The entire episode boggles the doctor's mind. He doubts that he's the only one.

Unfortunately, the bodies are only too real. Jim is kneeling next to the open-eyed security officer—whose face still looks horrified. McCoy checks each one but finds no life. He swallows hard and informs the Captain. Spock calls them both over to the end of the courtyard.

The sight is nauseating. It's a sea of dead bodies, haphazardly strewn about the earth. As they pick their way through it, Jim's jaw twitches with emotion he's shoving down into himself (Len can tell). McCoy didn't stay in the Palace long enough to encounter the servants or the Basilisk's Lessers, but he has no doubt from the expressions of his lovers that they do recognize the occasional familiar face.

They find Karla Yuise's body in an area that must have been (the illusion of) her rooms. She's sprawled on her stomach, head twisted and eyes blank. By the stiffness of her limbs, McCoy would estimate that she has been dead for almost three days. There is no indication of a knife wound on her back.

"Captain!" Jim is already at Spock's side by the time Leonard arrives. Their backs are to McCoy, but they are so still he can feel his blood pressure rising.

"What is it?"

Jim looks at the doctor, his face unreadable. Spock turns around and presents a communicator. "The communicator was among Miss Yuise's belongings." McCoy looks down, realizes that he is standing on an embroidered woman's tunic.

"You mean she had one the whole time?"

"No," Spock says slowly. "I think that we, each of us, retained our communicators; however—"

McCoy feels sick. "—we were made to believe that they had been taken."

Jim turns away, his shoulders rigid. McCoy thinks, _Damn it, Jim, this isn't your fault._ But he won't say it now; Spock and Leonard can only help Jim after they've got him cornered in his quarters—away from this planet, away from any reminder. Then, perhaps, the Captain will be open to listening to their words. Well, Len knows, he won't be at first but having two tenacious lovers is good for something.

The Captain orders Spock, "Establish contact with the Enterprise."

Spock does so, and McCoy cannot describe the sheer relief he feels at hearing Scotty's voice say "Mr. Spock! We've been tryin' reach ye since yesterday!"

* * *

Turns out that the Enterprise received an order from the Captain—they swear it was his voice—to beam up McCoy and Yuise but when the transporter was activated, a large surge of energy (so strange) came through and felled half of the system. It's still down for repairs, but the regular—though brief—comms from the Captain kept them from worrying.

The Basilisk was thorough in his isolation of the delegation party. They would have all been dried-out husks of people before the space-bound crew grew suspicious enough to send down a shuttle. It's just another explanation that they have to file in their reports to Starfleet. McCoy doubts that Command is going to take half of their claims seriously—despite the Enterprise's track record for encountering the most phenomenally evil and inventive creatures in the galaxy.

(On the shuttle ride back to the Enterprise, McCoy never utters a single complaint; he sits, behind Jim and Spock, with closed eyes.)

Later, they send down several investigative parties to flesh out the details of the event; Jim goes along on each one, much to McCoy's dismay. Leonard performs careful autopsies of several bodies. The security officers died, he concludes, in the unleashing of the Basilisk's power. Their bodies are burnt on the inside, as if they carried a searing wave of energy like receptacles. Other bodies vary in states of death: some recent; some, deceased so long ago that they are little more than mummified remains.

It's horrific, and when the three surviving officers sit down to discuss and analyze the Basilisk's trap, Jim tells Spock and McCoy about the Basilisk. McCoy can only imagine, then, the implications of the autopsy results. Did these people die slowly, drained on their life force? Were they still in possession of their own thoughts, or little more than empty husks of functioning organs? Remembering the blank look in Reeves' eyes, the doctor hesitates to speculate further. It is hard enough, watching the Captain compose each heart-breaking missive to the family of the deceased. (Spock and McCoy want to help but Jim refuses, like always.)

They orbit the planet for two more weeks before Command closes the mission. As the Enterprise pulls away from the planet of the Basilisk, Jim tells Spock and Bones in the privacy of the Ready Room the final verdict of the Fleet and Federation.

"The Federation wants to recolonize the planet. They will be sending in a science team to determine the suitability of the surface for life and then, eventually, reconstruction crews."

McCoy is so mad he thinks that he may throw something; he crosses his arms and tucks his hands next to his body just in case. "And they read the full report?"

"Yes."

"Shit, Jim! You'd think a soul-sucking monster would be enough to quarantine the entire planet for the next thousand years. Goddamn those bastards!"

Spock adds, "I too find this news disturbing, Captain. The Science Department was able to correlate data between the Basilisk and our encounter with the Organians, but we could not draw accurate conclusions. The Basilisk is, simply, an unknown entity—and dangerous to all life."

"The planet will be deemed safe when it shouldn't be," Jim acknowledges as he paces.

"Wasn't any of them worried that we couldn't find the Basilisk's body, Jim?"

"If the Basilisk's explanation to the Captain is correct, Doctor, then we can assume that he is able to transfer his… essence."

They take a moment to absorb Spock's statement. McCoy shivers. "So he could be sitting down there, waiting on the next batch of Federation fools to come trolley-ing along for settlement."

No one needs to say a word; agreement is unanimous.

* * *

The Enterprise hums as it goes into warp. Despite that they leave the solar system behind and are bedding down together for some much needed rest in the large Captain's bed, not one of the three sleeps easily. McCoy settles for rubbing Jim's back in slow circles with one hand and brushing his thumb along the side of Spock's fingers that are entwined with his own.

_At least, we're alive. At least, we are together._

Tomorrow Kirk, Spock, and McCoy can pretend to be normal—until they _can _be normal again.

Len's eyes close, but the darkness seems worse. His ears ring with the echo of the Basilisk's howl—that terrible, angry keen like a starving man denied. Though the Vulcan's heat keeps Len's skin warm, on the inside, McCoy is cold.

_-Fini_

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it!**


End file.
